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I open the door and we both wince. We’ve stayed in some pretty shitty motel rooms so far, but this one takes the cake.
“At least it doesn’t smell?” Lucy says, as I shut the door and use the dinky chain to lock the door.
I toss both our bags on the bed, wincing when it sags more than it should. Maybe sleeping on the floor will be a blessing.
Then I glance at the carpet, noting the iffy stains.
Or not.
Lucy unzips her bag, plucking at her tank top with two fingers, and I grind my teeth not to notice the way it clings. “How good does a hot shower and dry clothes sound right now?”
Right now I’m a lot more intrigued by Lucy in the shower than I am dry clothes. My mind flashes to the thought of us showering. Together. Me crowding her against the wall, my hands all over her soapy body, my lips on her neck as she tips her head back, moaning with pleasure.
God, I love the way she used to moan.
“I’ll go see about getting us another room,” I say in a low voice.
She spins around. “Oh, don’t leave me. That guy next door…”
“Has the muscle definition of a four-year-old. Flimsy as that lock is, he’s not getting through.”
“Please. Stay.”
I meet her eyes. “I can’t stay here in this room with you, Lucy. Not with one bed. Way too much temptation.”
She cups her elbows with her palms and seems to curl into herself. “Temptation because it’s me, or just because it’s been a while since you’ve gotten laid?”
My temper surges. “I’m not an animal. I don’t run after anything with tits.”
Lucy says nothing, and that pisses me off further, and I take a step closer. “That’s what you think, isn’t it? That I don’t have an ounce of decency, that I’ll get my rocks off with anyone who offers.”
“Not just anyone,” she says in a small voice.
She doesn’t say anything more, but I know exactly what she isn’t saying, and complete the sentence for her. “Just Abby Mancuso. Is that it? Jesus Christ, would you let that go? I’m not still hung up on my high school girlfriend.”
She doesn’t meet my eyes, and now I’m pissed. I swipe a hand over my face, ignoring the fact that I flick water all over the place. What we both need is a towel to dry off, some distance both from the happiness of five minutes ago, and the anger of now.
It keeps happening this way with us, and I’m damn sick of it. Push pull, flirt fight, laugh…
And now this.
Whatever this is. Another fight, I suppose, but I just, I don’t…
“I’m so sick of this, Lucy. We can’t keep doing this.”
“Then you shouldn’t have agreed to the road trip!”
I step closer. “Don’t put this all on me.”
“But it is all on you!”
“How the fuck do you figure that?”
“You ruined us. We had something perfect, and you ruined it.”
Fine. She wants to have this out, let’s fucking do it.
I move even closer to her until we’re toe-to-toe, face-to-face. “No, you ruined it. You left. I was your summer fling before your real life began. You always made that perfectly clear.”
